Thanks so much for K D hosting me today. We’re going to play a quick round of Mardi Gras trivia. Yes, I know, we’re already past the season, but since it’s over you’re brain cells should be working even better. What? You didn’t give up alcohol? Hmmm, maybe that’s the first question!
1) What Catholic tradition does Mardi Gras fall before?
Fat Tuesday, the final day of Mardi Gras, falls right before the beginning of Lent. On the following day Ash Wednesday, Catholics traditionally give up something for the Easter season. So think of it as the last hurrah before temperance sets in.
2) What color is normally not associated with Mardi Gras: Purple, Gold, Orange or Green?
The answer would be Orange!
3) Is Mardi Gras only celebrated in New Orleans?
No way! I’ve heard of some awesome extravaganzas in Missouri and Austin, Texas. While the soul is in New Orleans, the heart is spread out all over the world.
4) What does the “baby” represent in a King Cake?
The person who gets the piece of cake with the plastic figurine of the “baby” (or sometimes referred to as Jesus) receives special privileges or fortune for the following year. The tradition was featured in Chains of Silver, the second book in the erotic paranormal series The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf.
5) What’s with those beads anyway?
Ah, in Mirabella’s Mardi Gras Ménage, they play with beads a little bit different way (no spoilers). In reality, according to Craig Thomburrow, the plastic beads may be gaudy, but they represent “the jewelry worn by royalty.”
Hope you enjoyed this bit of trivia!
Mirabella’s Mardi Gras Ménage
Constantly under the watchful eye of her Voodoo priestess aunt, Mirabella longs to break free during the events of Mardi Gras. Escapades draw her into the arms of Marguerite, a fiery redhead with a passion for life, and Nick, a familiar vampire who’s haunted by his transformation and past.
What starts as a new experience – a Mardi Gras Ménage – soon turns deadly, and none of their lives will ever be the same.
Louisa Bacio is the author of six erotic novels, including the paranormal series The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf, and numerous steamy short stories.
Bacio enjoys soaking up the sun in Southern California, and spending time with her family. In addition to writing and editing, Bacio teaches college courses in English, journalism, film studies and popular culture.
If his beauty was of the Devil, and this an enchantment, she did not care. . .
Lord Karolan Rakka is no stranger to death: sensual, mysterious and endowed with an arcane knowledge of alchemy, he has achieved immortality. Deeply lonely and tormented by the Fetch – the dark and wanton spirit who feasts on his fleshly desires – Karolan endeavours to resist the brief solace of sexual pleasure . . . Instead he longs for a kindred soul. And when he finds her in the ravishing form of Garnetta – a young woman, both innocent and lost – Karolan wastes no time in making her his own. But when Garnetta discovers the shocking truth about their overwhelming bond of desire, she flees Lord Rakka – and finds herself in mortal peril. Only Karolan can save her. Will he make a leap of faith for the woman he has grown to love . . . before time runs out? The Flesh Endures is a breathless tale of faith and love, and the bonds of desire from which there is no escape.
It was gloomy inside the low room, the air thick with the oily smoke from rush tapers. The lavender and sweet woodruff that strewed the beaten earth floor had long since wilted and failed to mask the smells of stale sweat and unwashed clothes.
At the back of the room, in an area of deepest shadow, Lord Karolan Rakka lay on a pile of tawdry cushions. He watched his companion caressing the two young women, his perceptions blurred by the poppy drug coursing through his veins. The three naked bodies were shiny with sweat and the smells of sex and exertion clotted his nostrils. He wondered, for a moment, why he had stayed. There had been no reason to linger after Jack had given him the things he required, but he had felt a desire for human company. And so he had poured a measure of the opiate into a tankard of ale and settled back to watch Jack indulge his sexual appetites.
For a while the two women worked on his companion, taking it in turns to kiss Jack’s mouth and caress his body. Then they put on a show for the two men, moaning loudly as they kissed each other, rubbing their breasts together until the nipples stood out like ripe cherries.
Inflamed by the display, Jack reached for Isabeau, preferring her rich womanly curves to Adeliz’s more girlish form.
‘Come and join us, why don’t you?’ Jack mumbled, surfacing from between Isabeau’s spread legs and wiping her moisture from his chin. There’s enough here for two. You don’t mind sharing your honey pot, do you my pretty?’
*****
Author Bio:
Cleo Cordell is the author of nine erotic novels, a number of short stories and a forthcoming anthology. The bestselling Captive Flesh, published in 1993, was followed by Senses Bejewelled and Velvet Claws, and Cleo was established as ‘the new queen of suburban erotica’ in Today and ‘queen of the undieworld’ in the Woman’s Journal. Her subsequent titles, Juliet Rising, Path of the Tiger, Crimson Buccaneer and Opal Darkness, confirmed her position as first lady of historical-fantasy erotica.
Writing as Susan Swann, Cleo’s alter ego explored contemporary erotica in The Discipline of Pearls and The Ritual of Pearls.
Cleo began working for Northamptonshire Libraries at the age of sixteen. This gave her ample opportunity to explore the world of dark fantasy fiction, her first love. When not reading or researching, she enjoys the cinema, her cats, wildlife and cooking gourmet vegetarian food. At present she is working on the sequel to The Flesh Endures, continuing the fortunes of the enigmatic alchemist Lord Karolan Rakka.
Today I’m going to talk about the music for Body & Bow, a story about a classic music duo taking a most intriguing kind of sexual revenge on a music critic. I think it’s first important to explain how I reached that kernel of a plot idea.
Some point last year, I had the idea of a male violinist using his bow on a woman to excite her. Beyond that, I wasn’t sure what to do. The idea was strong, and stayed with me for months before the plot came together. For a long while, I had no idea of how such a situation would occur.
The thought later came to me that there was more to be said for shaping a woman’s body like a cello, which albeit sits at an angle when played, is at least upright enough that you can better imagine a woman sitting than you can think of her draped between a musician’s hand and chin. So I almost hung up the idea of the violinist and went for a solo cellist. By this point, though, I’d grown so attached to having the violin, to the point that I borrowed one from a friend to study it, that I didn’t want to toss it aside.
Why not, then, it occurred to me, to have both?
From that point, the story began to take shape. Soon I had the characters and personalities of the musicians (a louder, more expressive American, and a quieter Italian) and I had a female music critic to antagonise the men into action. I realised though that beyond the engineering of that first scenario, I needed some music that they would likely play as a duo.
And so I went where all good researchers go these days. The internet. Or in this case, YouTube.
The first piece I turned up had potential: Ravel’s Sonata for Violin and Cello, 2nd Movement:
It’s a great, distinctive piece, but it didn’t quite fit. It felt quirky and a little experimental, and didn’t have the flow I was really after. What I wanted was something traditional, something a bit stirring and exciting.
A little more searching, and then this appeared. It’s commonly called the Handel-Halvarsson Passacaglia. I urge you to listen to this one, with Julia Fischer on violin and Daniel Muller-Schott on cello – of all the ones on YouTube, I think it is the best (certainly the most passionate):
The piece was originally composed by Georg Handel, perhaps better known for his choral work, Messiah. This Passacaglia was the final movement in his Harpsicord Suite in G minor, and originally, sounded like this:
For the curious, the full Suite on Harpsicord is here:
Then, in 1894, Johan Halvarsson, a Norwegian composer, adapted the Passacaglia as a duet for violin and cello. It has subsequently been adapted for violin and viola, and an excellent example of that is Itzhak Perlman and Pinchas Zukerman’s duet:
I’d found what I was after. There is a richness and variety in the duet, a range of techniques, sections where the instruments talked to each other, played off each other. It was, in a word, perfect for my purposes. What I realised, and I think you might agree (if you’ve listened to the piece often enough… 😉 ), that it follows the rhythms of sex. A certain kind of sex – a forceful, emphatic, grabs you and doesn’t let you go while it teases you, lulls you, and then brings you to the brink before pushing you off the edge kind of sex. Absolutely the kind of sex I wanted to write about. To the point that I’d embed a recording of the Passacaglia into the novella itself if I could so I could have the reader understand how the key scene was meant to sound, as well as feel, to entice the ears as well as the visions and arousal that would be passing through them as they read.
At the very least, I hope I’ve conveyed the experience of listening to an amazing recording of the Passacaglia.
If you want to hear more versions (as well as the above videos) of the Passacaglia, I have set up a playlist on YouTube:
And what of fastidious Lambrosini? He actually wasn’t a bad violinist, though she’d watched him play so robotically, so stiltedly.
Still, Sanderson… She wondered how he would react to her now? He must have imprinted her picture on his memory. Would he storm at her from across the room, taking it in three strides with his big long legs? Would he wrap his hands around her body, shake her with rage? Maybe then he’d make his point to her, make her damn well know he could play… And throw her across the inevitable baby grand, hike her skirts up, and ram his impressive cock into her.
Her fingers skirted the top button of her jeans. She was wondering whether to skip Waitrose and head home straight away to reacquaint herself with her vibrator when her phone rang again. Klarissa glared at it, but it wasn’t a number in her caller ID, nor one she recognised.
She picked it up. “Klarissa Archer.”
“Ah, Ms. Archer. This is Marco Lambrosini.”
What! She sat forward. “How did you get my number?”
“I have my, how do you put it in journalism, contacts. Do not worry, I am not calling to give you verbal abuse. Rather, I was hoping we might be able to meet for a drink.”
Klarissa was vaguely suspicious. It wouldn’t have been the first time a disgruntled musician whose performance she’d found sub-par had decided to try and make peace with her. It was rare though – rarer than the name-calling, the threats on her reputation, and other assorted hissy fits that highly-strung musicians were prone to.
“The kind of drink where you smile pleasantly at me and then slip arsenic into it when my back is turned?”
“Ah, no, of course. Hemlock is my preferred poison.”
Klarissa barked out a laugh, taken by surprise at the joke. “Oh I do like a good splash of hemlock in my wine.”
“Ah, you like wine? Then I know the perfect place.”
Like I don’t know London, Klarissa thought. That said, she had heard of the wine bar Lambrosini suggested, but had not been before. They arranged to meet later that night.
She didn’t quite know why she said yes. It wasn’t like a ranting call from Sanderson, calling her all sorts of vile names, ending with her inviting him for a conciliatory drink, and oh, why don’t we just share a taxi back to your hotel…
Oh stop it, she scolded herself.
Before she left the office, though, she flipped open to the page with her review. The picture accompanying it was of them playing, Sanderson’s head thrown back as if to show off that characteristic lion’s mane, and Lambrosini’s steady gaze on Sanderson. The lion caught up in the moment of the music, and his accomplice watching him.
That was their problem, really. If Klarissa had written what she really thought – really, truly thought, rather than trying to maximise the belly laughs and poke Leonard the Lion – it would be that the concert would have been better titled ‘The Leonard Sanderson Show’.
Particularly the Handel-Halvorsen Passacaglia, which should have been their piece de resistance of the evening. Lambrosini should have been focused on his violin, but instead had spent the duration trying to catch Sanderson’s eye, because Sanderson was so wrapped up in his playing that he’d barely registered Lambrosini’s existence.
God, it had been awful.
Blurb and where to buy
Upon reading Klarissa Archer’s scathing review of their latest performance, cellist Leonard Sanderson and violinist Marco Lambrosini have very different reactions. Leonard is filled with rage. Marco invites Klarissa for drinks. Pleased that she has so upset the arrogant Sanderson Klarissa accepts Marco’s offer, unaware that he has something in mind for her, Leonard, velvet ropes and the bows of cello and violin. (M/F/M)
Jacqueline Brocker is an Australian writer living in the UK. She has published several short erotic stories with various publishers, and also self-published several works. Her first erotic novella, Body & Bow, is published by Forbidden Fiction, from whom she has two short stories forthcoming later this year. When not writing, or Scottish Country Dancing, she can be found reading by the banks of the River Cam.
One of my absolute favorite things as a writer is to come up with character names. I know they are important. I will be using them in my own head for a long time as I craft the story or novel. And hopefully they will be the sort of names that can be so connected with a character and at the same time so memorable that readers will be speaking of them for many years hence. Hey, a girl can dream.
I’ve lived in many countries and come to appreciate that other cultures attach so much meaning to actual names. In Japan, much careful consideration is given to the “kanji” or “honko,” the symbol that one’s name becomes in Chinese Kanji. (Japanese has 3 alphabets. Don’t get me started on how hard THAT was to learn). In Turkish, all names are bestowed with an eye towards the attribute that the name implies.
In Healing Hearts, my male protagonist’s name is Jay Longmire, but that is short for “Jefferson Taylor” and he asks his new friend Abigail to “please tell him her middle name is not Adams.” His parents were American history experts and professors with a penchant for presidential lore. His sister’s name is Madison Eleanor. “But don’t get my mother started on why Eleanor would have been an even better leader than her husband,” he tells Abby when she reminds him that there was no “Eleanor” American president.
Excerpt:
“Stop flirting with me. That’s a personal bubble violation,” he whispered, letting his lips graze her earlobe, loving how her whole body shivered against him.
“Fine, then stop pressing against me so hard I can feel how much money is in your pocket.”
“Touché.” But he gripped her closer. The candlelight flickered, the music embraced them, and she nearly brought him to his knees with her next words.
“I can’t be what you want me to be, Jay. I have goals. I need my independence. I want to make it on my own.”
He sucked in a breath, slid the hand he had on her hip around to the small of her back. He didn’t need this. But he wanted it so much he was about to explode. “I’m never going to be what you want me to be, either. Let’s just be…what we are…tonight.”
She laid her head against his chest, and he shut his eyes, trying not to let the moment overwhelm him, send him screaming into the night. Christy’s face at their wedding, at the birth of their children, and that last moment when her eyes clouded over after she told him not to blame himself while he watched her die—they all rose, clear and bright. He swallowed, leaned down into Abigail’s thick riot of dark curls, sucked in a deep breath. “What do you want me to be for you…tonight?” he asked.
She put her hand to his face, went up on her tiptoes, and met his lips, urgent and needy. He kissed her, listening to the crowd clap and catcall. Then broke away. “Well?” he asked, his body zinging.
“I want you to be the guy who takes me to bed again.” The simplicity of her words taking his breath away. “I don’t want to be made love to, not now. I need you, Jay. With me, inside me, all over me. And you need it, too. No strings, no emotion. Only physical urges met. I’m willing. Are you?”
He stepped away from her, a little shocked and a lot horny. “Give me two minutes.” Grateful the room had dimmed for the music and dancing, he dropped three hundred in cash on the table, more than enough to cover the meal, wine, and a healthy tip, and took her hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, giggling when he pushed her up against the side of his SUV and dove into her mouth, sweeping into it with his tongue, his hands cradling her face then buried in her hair. She molded into him, making that damn noise, the one that made him insane, down in her throat.
He broke from her, stared into her eyes. “Yes.”
BLURB:
Jay Longmire had it all–a successful business, a beautiful wife, two loving children. But one normal Sunday evening in Ann Arbor everything was ripped from his arms at knifepoint. He has retreated to Traverse City to hide from the world, nursing his physical and emotional wounds and trying to cope with mind-numbing guilt over his inability to protect his family.
Abby Powers serves him coffee he never drinks and has become obsessed with the movie-star handsome but melancholy man. And the anticipation of his appearance every day takes her mind off her own messy life.
What begins as a near desperate physical connection out of the blue develops into a friendship that has the potential to heal two damaged hearts. But Jay is terrified to love again. While Abby’s fierce independence forces them both to acknowledge the deeper relationship they both desire, but that remains just out of reach.
Microbrewery owner, best-selling author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great middle west, in a Major College Town. Years of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry) has prepped her for life as erotic romance author. When she isn’t sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or sweating promotional efforts for her latest publications. Her ground breaking romance sub genre: “Romance for Real Life” has gained thousands of fans and followers, interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”)
Her beer blog a2beerwench.com is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high powered real estate offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury.
Do you get turned on when you write? by Elizabeth Cage
This is a question I have been asked before, both at writing events and by friends and colleagues. Is writing erotica in itself an erotic act? Or just a job? I confess that my answer depends on what mood I’m in. And how naughty I’m feeling at the time.
When I was working on my first ever collection of spanking BDSM stories (Kissing Velvet) I admit that, when feeling “written out” but dangerously close to my delivery deadline for the publisher, I took short breaks between computer sessions (my pc was in a cupboard in my bedroom – a great workplace) to lie on the bed, where I’d fantasise and masturbate to re-ignite me. It worked. (I hope!). And one of the highest compliments I was once paid by a reviewer was when she said reading my stories got her using her vibrator. Praise indeed!
I have used some of my own sexual adventures as inspiration, and reliving them can be a turn-on. In such situations, I will sometimes break away from writing and play. Of course, if I did this too often I would never get any work done….
Having illicit sex in a situation where you might get caught or discovered is erotic for lots of people, and for some reason, I’ve always had a thing about being naughty in a kitchen. So I hope you enjoy this extract, where frustrated Shannon finds out that dinner parties can be more fun than she imagined. Best get back to my desk now….
Extract from Second Helpings
‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ I protested, making a half-hearted effort to push him away.
‘Why not?’ he replied, his hands sliding down, caressing my bum, while his mouth found my neck, giving me an exquisite little nip behind my ear. ‘I’ve wanted to do this all evening.’
‘Me too,’ I groaned, grabbing his neck and kissing him roughly, our tongues exploring. Wrapping my arms around him, I pushed my breasts against his broad chest, my nipples already hard. As he rolled my tight dress up to my waist, slowly unsheathing me, I thought, ‘What if someone comes in? What if Jay sees us?’ but it didn’t stop me. In fact, it made me feel even more turned on. I just wanted to eat him alive.
I was aware of music playing in the lounge, through the half open door, a passionate and energetic rock ballad, as Mr Elliot’s fingers carefully pulled my lacy black thong to one side, parting my moist pussy lips. I was vaguely aware too of raised voices, as Jay and his mother engaged in lively conversation. My host slipped two fingers inside me, groaning at the wetness they found while he lifted me onto the kitchen worktop. With his other hand, he quickly unzipped his trousers to reveal a rigid cock, impatient for action. I took it greedily in my mouth, sucking enthusiastically, deep throating him until, moaning softly, he suddenly pushed my head away and produced a shiny wrapper from his pocket. I was both shocked and amused at this, wondering if he was always so well-prepared – or had he planned this? I didn’t care though. I needed to be fucked. And hard. And now.
Book blurb for Second Helpings
Surely everyone deserves a second chance? Three sexy stories. Quirky, romantic erotica with a twist.
Words and Actions
Alys’s drunken one night stand with an ex-boyfriend puts her relationship with her beloved partner Lee in jeopardy, leaving her desperate to put things right. On the way to a party, their car breaks down in the middle of nowhere on a dark and stormy night and Lee’s unexpected behaviour is both surprising and arousing….
Two Hearts
Lucy knows deep down that her passionate affair with married businessman Callum is going nowhere, but when he suggests an erotic encounter in a graveyard, what happens next leads Lucy to a sexy stranger who may be the one to find her heart.
Second Helpings
Shannon and Jay’s sex life has taken a nose dive so Shannon decides it’s time to spice things up. But an invitation to dinner with Jay’s sophisticated parents leads to an evening full of raunchy surprises – and a life changing decision.
More information/buy link: Available as an e-book from Amazon UK and US
Also available from: Amazon.de, Amazon.es, Amazon.fr, Amazon.co.jp, Amazon.it, Amazon.com.br, and Amazon.ca
About the author:
A published writer since her early teens, Elizabeth Cage has been writing erotica since 1999. Her stories, poems and articles have appeared in numerous magazines including Scarlet, Desire, Forum, For Women, In the Buff, The Hotspot, and the International Journal of Erotica, as well as The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica 2010 (Cleis) and her fiction regularly appears in the sizzling anthologies and e-books from Xcite. Her BDSM collection, Kissing Velvet, was published in 2003 by Chimera, and her e-book collections Love Bites and Crimson Kisses are also available from Amazon.
She enjoys doing guest blogs, author talks, interviews, events and workshops and performs regularly in the successful show Wanton Words and Burlesque Bombshells reading her erotica and helping with the raffle!
Mardi Gras Trivia
Mirabella’s Mardi Gras Ménage
Bio
If his beauty was of the Devil, and this an enchantment, she did not care. . .
Soundtracks: Selecting the music for Body & Bow
Blurb and where to buy
Biography
BLURB:
Book blurb for Second Helpings
About the author: